The Potter Corpus
by the madman with wings
Summary: This is a story to hold all of my random ideas in the Potterverse, some are odd omakes, and some are story material that could be expanded upon at a later date. inspired by my Co-author in crime: The Plot Mechanic
1. The Dishonoured Guard

" _Severus . . . please . . ." Snape raised his wand and pointed it directly at Dumbledore._

" _Avada Kedavra!"_

 _A jet of green light shot from the end of Snape's wand and hit Dumbledore squarely in the chest. Harry's scream of horror never left him; silent and unmoving, he was forced to watch as Dumbledore was blasted into the air. For a split second, he seemed to hang suspended beneath the shining skull, and then he fell slowly backward, like a great rag doll, over the battlements and out of sight._

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Good lord, look at what he's done!" Fudge exclaimed.  
"Yes, He's killed the Headmaster! What have you done with Professor Snape, Traitor?" Umbridge asked, her sickeningly sweet voice making his headache.

"Aurors, take him!" Madam Bones cried. Someone sent a stunner flying towards him, rendering him unconscious.

 **Harry Potter and The Dishonoured Guard**

 **A Story inspired by Dishonoured**

 **by: The Madman With Wings**

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

 _Six Months Later..._

Harry awoke to the telltale clanging of the cell door as the guard delivered 'Breakfast' - nothing more than a piece of stale bread, a moldy slice of cheese, and water.

"You should eat, Potter. This meal comes from a friend." the guard stated.

 _Now who could that be?_ Harry thought. All his friends had betrayed him at that sham of a trial. Even Ron and Hermione, who had said that they believed he was innocent, still let him be thrown into Azkaban.

He rolled off his wooden cot and moved over to the tray of food. As he took his first bite of the bread, he bit something that tasted… metal? Harry noticed a note, tucked underneath the bowl. He picked it up and began to read:

 _Mr. Potter,_

 _Who we are is irrelevant right now. Just know that we have faith in you._

 _The key to your cell is in the bread. Once you are out, head for the prison's Interrogation Room. Take the explosive there and plant it on the outer door. When the bomb goes off, run. Make for the docks and find the boat with a red lantern. You'll find some useful gear stashed there._

 _One of the prison guards will leave a weapon just outside your cell._

 _\- A friend_

Harry was perplexed. On one hand the note seemed too good to be true, but on the other, the message was too solemn to have been fabricated by the guards. He looked around the cell, noting that it only contained a cot shoved unceremoniously off into the corner.

He sighed, not quite knowing what to do. Harry sat there for what must have been hours, but ultimately decided to follow the instructions, damn the consequences. He pushed himself up and limped over to the cell door, used the key to open the door to his personal hell, and looked around. No alarm went off upon his unapproved exit, no guard came rushing down the corridor to detain him and throw him back in his cell, _nothing_ happened.

Deciding not to look a gift horse in the mouth, he quickly whipped his head around, and upon concluding that it was abandoned, checked the area around the door to find a simple iron sword resting next to it.

Harry stared, as it was not often that he saw something that was considered a muggle weapon in the wizarding world, but picked it up nonetheless. He held loosely it in a reverse grip, and started down the corridor, the path familiar to him from his rigorous interrogation.

On turning a corner he encountered a guard, his back to him. In a split-second, Harry had his arm around the guard's neck, using a hold he knew well enough from the times his cousin Dudley had gotten creative in his favorite pastime of "Harry-Hunting".

He nodded once the guard was knocked out, quietly laying him on the floor and searching his pockets. He found a lighter and a sack of coins, and then he stripped the guard and changed into the uniform. It proved to be much bigger but was was warmer than the simple prisoner tunics.

* * *

 ** _this was just an idea rattling in my head, this could be turned into a fully fledged story based on the reception. Read, Review, Relax_**

 ** _\- The Madman With Wings_**


	2. Harry Anderson

"Harry Anderson and the Goblet of Fire"

Or: "Harry Anderson and Killing Protestant Heathens"

Despite popular opinion, multiple groups knew about the existence of the wizarding world aside from the government. The Hellsing Organisation, The Stargate Project, and The Vatican Section XIII being among them.

Amongst the wizarding nation, there was a common belief that there was no power higher than the Wizard, though many worshipped pagan deities and even the Great and Powerful Myrddin as though they were gods.

However, in the last half century people had become fanatical about powerful wizards. The most popular examples were the Dark Lord Voldemort and the famous leader of the Light, Albus Dumbledore. However, after the downfall of said Dark Lord, people started hailing their saviour Harry Potter, only a year old then, as a messiah.

As for young Potter, as fate would have it, he would not know of the impact he'd had on the world. Until now, that is.

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Despite popular belief, Vatican priests did have time to themselves. While most meditated, prayed, and did other things commonly expected of a religious order. such was not the case for many of the children in the orphanage run by the church.

During the day the orphanage was a menagerie of sounds and smells. The freshly cut grass, the food being prepared in the kitchens, and the laughter of children at play outside were common indeed.

However, an uncommon but not unwelcome sound was the thunk of the heavy boots worn by the orphanage caretaker, Alexander Anderson, as he walked through the wood-floored halls that comprised the dorms.

" _Secret technique. Sekiha Love Love Tenkyoken!_ " came a cry from one of the rooms. Anderson turned, noting that the door was marked with the mark of the beast. He frowned, and opened the door to find a teenage boy with a black mop of a head of hair relaxing on his bed, eyes glued to the television.

"Harry," Anderson said, "Why do I never see you outside with the other children?" Harry looked up from the TV to match his gaze with his.

"You saw the mark on my door."

Anderson nodded.

"I tried everything to get it off. Washing, scraping, and covering it up did nothing."

"Is it something of… _your_ nature then?" He asked.

"No, it looks like someone used sealing prayers to make it stick." Harry responded. He hopped off the bed, padding to Anderson, and looking up at him.

"But that's not the only reason you're here, is it?" he asked.

"Aye, very astute. There have been numerous requests, as I'm sure your aware, from those wizards in England to send you over there, seeing as you're their 'saviour'." Anderson answered, digging through one of the many hidden pocket of his Cassock, finally retrieving a parchment envelope.

"Who uses parchment nowadays?" Harry asked, causing him to smile.

"According to this, you've been entered in some sort of contest, and if you don't participate, your life is forfeit." Anderson continued.

Harry started muttering about 'F******g English', but he was interrupted by a smack upside the head.

"That's for blasphemy!"

Harry merely glared, rubbing his head.

"And now, you need to go and show those Protestant bastards who's who." Anderson added with a bloodthirsty grin.


End file.
